


Scorpion

by BlackMajjicDuchess



Series: Namesake [13]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Art, Gen, Mad Science, Masochism, Poison, Science Experiments, Superiority Complex, scorpion, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMajjicDuchess/pseuds/BlackMajjicDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got the idea in my head one day to bring some of the Naruto characters face-to-face with the thing they were named after for the first time. I thought it might be fun. Also accepting challenges!</p><p>Stories will be posted separately but as part of the Namesake series.</p><p>Part 13: Scorpion</p><p>Komushi fails as an errand boy, but Sasori makes the most of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorpion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skywinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywinder/gifts), [larryjc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryjc/gifts).



> To issue a challenge, just comment on one of the stories in the series with the name you'd like to see done. The only stipulation is that it HAS to be a name that has a meaning, and it has to be a meaning that is something one can encounter. Example: Madara means "spots." What the heck am I supposed to do with that? On the other hand, Naruto's name refers to some kind of fish cake, which is something he could confront somehow.
> 
> Sasori challenge from larryjc AND skywinder
> 
> Sasori = Scorpion
> 
> Related to events in anime Shippuden Episode 319.

“Oi, Sasori! Oi oi!” The boy that thought they were friends jogged up, broad grin splitting his face like a hatchet. The unshakable Komushi, perpetual but happy go lucky failure, raced across his workshop. Always running, that one, and even after Sasori had warned him that if he broke any of his puppets, he’d become one himself. Komushi’s eyes brimmed with mirth, and in his hand was a thick walled glass jar, the contents obscured by the meat of his hand. _How was this one always so happy?_ Sasori wondered, and not for the first time.

Sasori had observed the mannerisms of the people that flitted through his life, but the emotions that they displayed confused him. He found himself unable to experience the spectrum of feelings that seemed to plague the rest of his kind. It seemed that, over time, he had become more puppet than human himself, detached from situations unless he was physically joined to them by chakra strings. The only sensation that even partially resembled pleasure came from the satisfaction of a completed project, but it was a fleeting thing; as soon as it was there, it was gone again, and would only be brought back by beginning a new project in a never ending cycle of occupation, completion, satisfaction, void.

He didn’t bother answering Komushi. The boisterous dolt would speak regardless, and he didn’t feel like wasting his attention on him. There was work to be done. “Sasori! Are you going to talk to me today or what?” He waited, dancing from toe to toe around Sasori as he did so like a fairy in a forest. Well, they weren’t fairies, and there wasn’t a tree for a hundred miles, so Sasori ignored it. If he could get this ball joint moving easily, he’d be one step closer to making Shinobi prosthetics, and one step closer to… “Sasori! Look what I’ve brought you. You said you wanted one, just like this, right? The last time we talked?”

Sasori’s glanced flickered to his right, locking onto the jar in Komushi’s hand. He took in the appearance of the creature in the jar. He’d asked for the Desert Recluse, a poisonous desert arachnid. The thing in the jar did indeed have eight appendages and dark beady eyes, but that was where the resemblance stopped. It was a critter that Sasori had never seen before. The word “no” rolled off his lips easily, hardly registering in his mind, as his gaze transfixed on the thing. It looked to be a combination of a spider, a crab, a wasp, and a terrible nightmare. It had eight legs, two huge pincers, dark, beady little eyes, and a menacing stinger that arced over its back like a bell.

“No?” Komushi’s shrilled. “Are you sure?” He turned the jar back toward his eyes, observing the creature within. “I thought for sure…” He scratched his neck, his face twisted with confusion. “Eight legs, and huge jaws…”

“Those aren’t jaws,” Sasori corrected, gently relieving the jar from Komushi’s careless hands. “They’re claws.” He set the jar down on his table and returned to the prosthetic pieces on his workbench, seemingly uninterested.

“I’ll go release it, then, and get the one you wanted." He paused. "Are you sure I can’t tell anyone? If I had help…” Komushi reached for the jar.

Sasori shook his head, his hand shooting out to stop Komushi’s convergence on the glass vessel. “Leave it,” he commanded. He turned to face Komushi, making eye contact for the first time. “These poisons are too advanced. No one will understand. You want to be the Village’s greatest puppet master, don’t you?” His innocent, impassive eyes bore into Komushi’s, paralyzing him, willing his thoughts to mirror his own, controlling him with subtle suggestion and unspoken promises of great power.

Komushi studied his face, but the seriousness gave way almost immediately, replaced with a giddy, boyish sense of wonder. He retracted his hand and did a fist pump. “Yeah! I’ll go get you that other spider you asked for, Sasori. You can count on me!” With that, he turned and cajoled back toward the entryway, turning to jog backward as he went, as if dancing. “See you soon, Sasori!”

Sasori watched him go, his face betraying nothing. _Fool_ , he thought to himself. _But a passably useful fool._ Komushi’s easygoing personality made him easy to manipulate. 

As soon as the door was shut, Sasori set down the wooden limb and picked up the jar. The inhabitant of it was riled and upset, scrabbling around in a tight circle and tapping at the glass walls, searching for a weakness. It was a personality quirk that Sasori could appreciate; not a day passed that he didn’t hope to escape his own kind of prison. But what was this thing? As he studied the morphology of its limbs and tail, he simultaneously designed the idea for a new puppet. “Hiruko,” he murmured, tentatively, testing the name. _Yes_ , he thought, opening the lid of the jar.

He opened the top drawer of his bench, first extracting a small notebook and then unlatching the hidden compartment in the back. There was a series of vials tucked away in there. They were a collection of his own secret poisons and antidotes. He selected one of them and filled a syringe, injecting it into his forearm. Then, he tipped the jar over on its lip, dumping the already agitated, sand-colored creature and forcing it to right itself. Its movements intensified, struggling for an outlet, seeking a victim to attack.

He lifted the jar, exposing it to the air. At first, it didn’t move, as if disbelieving that it was finally free. It raised its pincers, warning any who might be near that it was a dangerous being. Sasori reached for it, unflinching. When he was within striking distance, the arachnid tensed. Its tail raised and waved, giving him a final chance to back off, and its pincers opened and waved, too, looking for something to grasp onto.

He smiled, pleased, and slammed his arm down on the table rattling wooden pieces, metal tools, and glass bottles alike. Surprised, the arachnid lashed out, grappling his arm and striking with the barb on its tail. Instantly, Sasori's arm was on fire from fingertip to elbow. With a hiss of pain, Sasori jerked his arm back and began observing. With the uninjured hand, he pushed open his notebook, picked up his pen, and began recording observations, eyes locked on his new wound. Before too long, the fiery sensation subsided, replaced by a numbing, freezing cold. The veins in his arm swelled and turned a dark, menacing purple, pulsing. Several moments later, his special antidote seemed to start to take effect. The purple spidering of his veins retreated, sensation returned to his fingertips, and before too long, the feeling in his arm was completely normal.

He recaptured the strange, venomous creature and replaced the lid. By now it was more than enraged, and tried to climb up the side of the jar to escape. Sasori ignored it; it couldn’t escape, and now that he could see what it could do, it never would. If he had not had a multi-faceted antidote, he'd likely be dead by now. The potential of such a toxic substance was tantalizing.

He sighed, reveling in that transient trickle of pleasure that came with a new discovery. The notebook that contained his notes was getting full. He’d need a new one soon. Near the end of it, though, was a worn, dog eared page. He flipped to it easily enough. His notebook was so often opened to that page that could find it in the darkness now. There was a list of rare and dangerous flora that he had been compiling to make the ultimate poison. There were a few more innovative venoms that he had added to it recently, though. The Recluse might have been one, if Komushi had not failed him this time. 

Despite that, though, the experiment had not been a total loss. He wouldn’t need the Recluse now. At the bottom of the list, he scrawled _Hiruko_ having not been made familiar of the nightmarish creature in the jar nor its name. He’d know what his notes meant anyway. The list represented the recipe for what would become the world’s deadliest poison. He would use it in the crafting his own personal ninja tools, and no one else’s, a secret recipe of death for which only he would have the antidote. If anyone ever found the recipe or the antidote… He pushed the thought from his mind. _They wouldn't._

* * *

 

The woman was grasping his knees, beating him with desperation. "Please, heal him! Please, heal him! _Heal_ him! _Please_! You attached his right arm, too, right? Then his left arm can be... his legs, his body... you can even heal his soul, can't you? Give him back to me! _Heal my Komushi and give him back to me!"_

Throughout the outrage, he remained motionless, ignoring her. To the casual observer, he might have been in shock, witnessing the death of his dearest friend. They were fools, though. Ignorant, misguided fools who could never appreciate the complex composition of his crowning achievement. They could never begin to comprehend the beauty of the venomous cocktail that wracked the body of Komushi, causing the poor kid to writhe in agony, screaming, faithfully crying to the world that Sasori himself was not to blame. In the end, Komushi wasn't half bad as an errand boy. In his final moments, he'd both demonstrated the success of Sasori's master recipe and proclaimed his innocence with his dying breath. Beautiful.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this one turned into something sinister. :D Rather proud of myself actually.


End file.
